


Intruder

by Potrix



Series: Holding On [4]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bucky Barnes & Steve Rogers Friendship, Can be read as a stand alone, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: The Winter Soldier, Clueless Avengers, Cockblocking, Crack, Gay Bucky, Humor, M/M, Misunderstandings, Not Iron Man 3 Compliant, POV Tony Stark, Pansexual Tony, Straight Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-10
Updated: 2014-11-10
Packaged: 2018-02-24 19:39:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2593886
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/pseuds/Potrix
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Leave them,” says Natasha, followed by a silence that stretches so long, Tony is almost asleep again when he hears her add, in a whisper, “I worry about him.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Intruder

**Author's Note:**

> This is happy and silly and sweet because, well, the next part won’t be. At all. 
> 
> Enjoy!

**Intruder**

* * *

“You need to lay off.“

Startled, Tony nearly drops his carton of ice cream, cursing as he presses his free hand flat over his Arc Reactor. “Don’t do that, what is wrong with you?!”

The change in Natasha’s expression is minor, although the miniscule curl of her lips could very well be an indicator of amusement. Tony’s never sure with her.

“And what do you mean I need to lay off?” he demands once the actual words manage to penetrate through his shock, frowning first at her and then down at his stomach, petting it delicately. “I’ll have you know that I’m in perfect shape, thank you.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Natasha says pointedly, arches one perfect red eyebrow and simply plucks the ice cream out of Tony’s slack fingers before turning on her heel and striding out of the kitchen.

Tony stares after her, blinking stupidly for a few moments until a waft of cool air from the still open freezer reminds him of what he was doing before being so rudely interrupted. “Right. Right,” he sighs, grabs another carton and throws the door shut.

He absently starts eating on the way back upstairs, shovelling spoon after spoonful into his mouth while going over Natasha’s warning, repeatedly failing to make any sense of it. 

“There better be some pistachios left in there,” is how he’s greeted when he steps into the penthouse, Bucky’s suspiciously narrowed eyes tracking him over the back of the couch.

“You okay?” Steve asks when no answer is forthcoming, glancing up from his sketchbook, forehead creased in worry. “Did something happen? Is everyone all right?”

Bucky removes his, and Tony knows this from personal experience, always cold feet from underneath Steve’s thigh, making room for Tony to flop down onto the couch between them. He snakes an arm around Tony’s waist, pulling him in to rest against his chest which may or may not be a devious ploy to get at the ice cream.

“Sneaky Russian assassin being cryptic and creepy,” Tony mutters to Steve, making a noise of protest when Bucky steals a bite right off his spoon, appeased again when he receives a quick, sticky kiss behind the ear in apology.

Steve hums, considering, and flicks at Bucky’s toes when Bucky attempts to worm them back under his leg. “Anything I should bring up in the next team meeting?” he wants to know, stretching to fetch an earlier discarded blanket from the floor and draping it over both Tony and Bucky’s lower halves.

Tony shoots him a small smile in thanks, snuggling back against Bucky. “Nah, we’re good. I think.”

“Good,” Steve says and intercepts Bucky’s wandering hand, snagging the spoon away from Tony and popping it into his own mouth before Bucky gets the chance to do so.

***

“We are not watching RoboCop again,” Steve starts with an exasperated sigh, leaning over Bucky to get at the remote and pursing his lips when Tony scrambles away and out of his reach, holding it up over his head like a hard-won prize. “Enough with the robot-themed movies already, especially this one. There’s only so many times we can-“

“I like RoboCop,” Bucky interrupts, gracing Steve with his most innocent smile which, naturally, is not taken seriously at all. For good reason.

The glare he gets in return is one of utter betrayal. “You do not. You like _him_ ,” Steve huffs and now Tony is the subject of Steve’s famous puppy dog eyes which is entirely unfair. It is a scientific impossibility to deny Steve anything if he goes all disappointed and slightly disapproving national icon on a person. It’s one of the few things the whole team is in agreement over.

“Salt or sugar?” Clint yells from the kitchen and Tony is fast to shout back “Salt!” because who in their right mind prefers sweet pop corn?

The two identical grimaces of disgust probably mean the men out of time do.

“I ain’t kissin’ ya if your mouth tastes all salty,” Bucky declares in a whisper, his grin downright devilish.

“This is a reason to reconsider you as my second in command,” Steve adds, all feigned seriousness and contemplative tapping of forefinger against chin.

Tony makes the tactical error of chucking the remote at his head, only realising his mistakes when Steve simply snatches it out of the air, exclaims in triumph and exits the current movie to browse through the library.

“You ganging up on me is such bullshit,” Tony pouts, kicking at Bucky which turns out sort of satisfying and hilarious when Bucky overbalances and falls back against Steve with a surprised yelp-laugh. “This is my house, my television, my microwave they’re probably making your stupid sugary pop corn in. What about those famous gentlemanly manners I’ve heard so much about?”

“Wasted on you, is what they are, assho-“ Bucky starts, spluttering to an abrupt halt when Steve whacks him in the face with one of the couch cushions.

“Don’t be crass, Buck.”

Channelling his inner five-year-old, Bucky cranes his neck to glower up at Steve from where he’s sprawled halfway across his lap, pointing at Tony in outraged accusation. “What about him?”

“Too far away to smother,” Steve shrugs and finally settles on a documentary before turning to shoot Tony an impish grin. “And also a lost cause.”

Tony’s indignant squawk is interrupted by someone softly clearing their throat and Tony twists around to see Bruce hovering a few feet away, sheepishly rubbing a hand over the back of his neck.

“Should I be afraid to ask?”

Bruce grimaces. “It, uh, might be nothing. Or something. I’m not entirely sure. But isn’t exactly stable.”

“But movie night,” Tony whines, casting one last longing glance at the TV even as he rolls off the couch and pulls off one of Bucky's socks in the same movement, hurling it across the room and then quickly ducking behind Bruce when it hits an approaching Clint square in the chest before dropping down into the bowl of pop corn he’s holding.

Bucky mumbles something Tony’s fairly certain is highly insulting, voice muffled by the renewed application of cushion to face by Steve, while Clint seems to be caught somewhere between confusion, annoyance and resignation.

Tony isn’t even trying to hide his laughter as Bruce nudges him toward the elevator.

Figuring out the problem of the unstable experiment takes the better part of the evening and Tony would definitely be riding a science high if it weren’t for the fact that the only reason things didn’t move faster was Bruce leading him in circles with questions which, in hindsight, were bordering on the insulting in their simplicity.

Peeved and muttering huffily to himself, Tony relocates to the penthouse only to find Bucky standing in his kitchen and stealing the last of his cranberry juice. The fact that he’s half-naked and glistening with sweat is somewhat mollifying, however.

“So. Am I sad to have missed the movie, or...?” Tony asks as he saunters over, staging a token protest when he’s reeled in and squished against a damp chest, nevertheless winding his own arms around Bucky’s waist and tilting his head up for a kiss.

Bucky is warm and obliging, smiling and humming contentedly against Tony’s lips. “Never got ‘round to it. Some mission thing, Clint and Nat went out just after you and Bruce left, so Steve ‘n me went down to the gym for a while.”

“And beat the shit out of it other?” Tony chances to assume, brushing a gentle thumb over a blossoming bruise on Bucky’s cheekbone.

He’s well aware it will be gone by morning, Bucky’s face all healed and unfairly handsome as ever, but that doesn’t mean Tony has to like him being injured right now. He scowls at him something fierce to show his displeasure, maybe pouting a bit while he’s at it in order to further establish his point.

“Doesn’t even hurt anymore,” is all Bucky says, belying his words with a sharp hiss when Tony pokes at his cheek. “Hurts a little,” he amends guiltily, quickly leaning down to bring their mouths back together before Tony can voice any more protest.

“Classic diversion tactic,” Tony points out but does exactly Jack shit when Bucky demands to know what he intends to do about it.

“Shower?”

Tony’s too busy with shoving his hands down the back of Bucky’s shorts to do more than grunt his approval, letting himself be walked backwards across the sitting area and into the bathroom.

***

“-they even fit?”

Tony stirs at the hushed but not quiet enough voice, burrowing into the soft, fuzzy lump underneath him and earning himself an annoyed snuffle from Archie. He lazily pats what’s possibly the dog’s flank and yawns.

“Should we wake them?” Clint, yes, definitely Clint, asks from somewhere behind Tony.

Tony manages to crack open one eye, blinking blearily for a couple of moments until everything comes into focus, and can’t help but smile a disgustingly fond smile at the sight that presents itself.

Steve is sprawled across the couch, limbs all akimbo with one arm slung over his face and the other dangling onto the floor, chest rising and falling steadily, the polar opposite of Bucky who’s taking up as little space as possible, crammed between Steve’s feet and the armrest. His metal hand is curled around Steve’s calf and the flesh-and-blood one is reaching over to where Tony’s slumping in the armchair, just shy of touching Tony’s hair.

“Leave them,” says Natasha, followed by a silence that stretches so long, Tony is almost asleep again when he hears her add, in a whisper, “I worry about him.”

Clint lets out a long breath and then he’s tugging the blanket higher up over Tony and Tony would make a quip about being tucked in if he wasn’t exhausted beyond belief and hurting all over from fighting what they’re pretty sure were giant alien snails for most of the previous night.

“He’s got us. All of us.” Clint’s hand lingers on Tony’s shoulder for a second, squeezing.

***

“Mr Stark,” is all Tony hears over the music, turning just in time to get an eyeful of cleavage before he finds himself with an avowedly stunning blonde perched in his lap, beaming and waving a sharpie at him.

He doesn’t have to look to know Rhodey’s grinning into his beer.

“How about an autograph?” The woman leans in close, biting her bottom lip and fluttering long lashes at him.

“Always,” Tony drawls, taking the pen and expertly signing his name without touching anything that could potentially lead to a lawsuit because he’s learning, nudging her back onto her feet once he’s done. “Have a nice evening.”

She seems surprised and disappointed but takes the hint, rejoining her group of giggling twenty-somethings at the bar.

“Have a nice evening?” Rhodey arches a disbelieving eyebrow at Tony, shaking his head. “Are you serious?”

Tony crosses his arms over his chest defensively. “What?”

The eyebrow continues its ascent.

“Excuse me, I wasn’t aware that not ditching you for the first bimbo throwing themselves at me would offend your delicate sensibilities.”

“She was your type,” Rhodey insists, making Tony snort into his own drink.

“What’s my type?”

“Willing?”

“Asshole,” Tony laughs, flicking a peanut at him. “Go buy me more curly fries.”

“Give me your card,” Rhodey counters, the tight ass, but dutifully gets up to do as he’s told since he’s also a huge suck-up and, Tony grudgingly has to admit to himself, a honestly good friend.

A title Tony seriously considers withdrawing when Rhodey returns with the food, another round of beers and a beefy stranger in tow.

“This is Mike,” Rhodey informs him with a look Tony supposes is meant to be somehow significant but gets stubbornly ignored in favour of attempting to make Rhodey’s head explode with his mind, Jedi-style. “He’s an aeronautical engineer.”

Turns out Mike’s also an ex-soldier and steering conversation to a topic he and Rhodey can gush over together is, much to Tony’s relief, an easy thing.

Tony pretends he doesn’t notice Rhodey’s concerned frowning for the rest of the evening.

***

“Friend Stark!” Thor bellows and Tony seriously considers bolting and simply running for it, but Steve’s there and he’s already waving at Thor all earnestly and invitingly.

Tony is screaming inwardly because they were so, _so_ close. “Hi there, big guy.”

Thor nods at Steve and Bucky before moving his attention to Tony. “There is a matter of utmost urgency I require your expertise with!”

Which is just, no. Not tonight. There have been distractions and battles and briefings for the better part of two weeks and all Tony wants right now is to drop Steve off at the apartment of his _‘not girlfriend, Tony, she’s simply a friend who happens to be female’_ on the way to the Chinese place, pick up their order and hightail it the hell out of Manhattan for the night to spend some much needed quality time with his hopefully soon-to-be boyfriend or partner or whatever term Bucky prefers, he honestly doesn’t give a single shit.

“Can’t this wait until tomorrow?” he asks, knowing how futile any attempts to stall are going to be when Thor shakes his head, actually succeeding in making the motion seem grave and important.

“I am afraid not, Anthony.”

“Fine,” Tony groans, rubbing a hand over his face, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Five minutes, Point Break, yeah?”

With another nod, Thor vanishes back into the elevator, all swishing cape despite the lack of a breeze in the tower lobby.

The instant the doors slide shut behind him, Bucky’s arms are around Tony, his lips pressed to the back of Tony’s neck. “Another time.”

“I don’t want another time, I want right now,” Tony says petulantly, turning around in Bucky’s embrace so he can hide his face away in Bucky’s chest. “Fuck.”

“Want me to come with?” Bucky offers but Tony shakes his head, stepping back. “Nah, it’s fine. You don’t have to.”

“No one will mind if you tag along, Buck. It’s a party, after all,” Steve suggest, shooting Tony an apologetic smile and giving a somewhat sheepish shrug. “Sorry about your date.”

Tony shrugs back, ruffling a hand through his hair. “Whatever, you kids have fun.”

It helps a bit when Bucky coaxes him into a kiss so filthy, Steve blushes several different kinds of red and excuses himself, muttering something about waiting out by the car.

Thor’s emergency, which is the overstatement of the millennium, is a leaking bathroom sink.

Tony glares at him while he fixes it, then gets drunk to ‘MythBusters’ reruns, swimming in Bucky’s hoodie he borrowed indefinitely and hugging a squirming Archie close for comfort.

***

The whole team plus Rhodey are gathered in the communal living room when Tony returns from his Malibu meeting, very obviously and suspiciously having been waiting for his arrival.

“Okay, I already don’t like this,” Tony announces, skidding a halt next to the couch the clearly not-in-on-it Steve and Bucky are sitting on. “What’s going on?”

Clint elbows Rhodey in the side until he steps forward, guiding Tony to an empty chair.

“Tony, listen,” he begins and Tony glances over at the two super soldiers, sort of glad to see his confused panic mirrored by both of them. “We all love you and-“

Tony throws up his hands. “Oh, for fu-“

“-we know that you’ve had a hard time since Pe-“

“Don’t you dare bring this-“

“-and we don’t blame you, Tony, we really don’t, but this has got to stop.”

Nothing. Then, “What has got to stop?” Tony wants to know, wariness starting to creep under his skin, cold and not at all welcome.

Rhodey looks at Natasha who takes over, seeming unfazed. “You need to give Steve and James some space.”

“Space for what?” Bucky frowns, eyes darting from the team to Steve to Tony and back. “What’re you talkin’ about?”

“Man, come on,” Clint groans, “don’t do this. We don’t care, all right? Just get your shit together and figure out what you want.”

Steve is the first to put the pieces together, ears turning pink with the realisation. “Are you insinuating that there is something going on between Buck and me?”

Tony is too stunned to react while Bucky proceeds to bury his face in his hands, shaking with silent laughter. The team share concerned looks.

Bruce steps in. “Steve, there is nothing wrong with how you feel about-“

“Bucky is my friend, my brother,” Steve interrupts, chin lifted determinedly, practically challenging anyone to contradict him on this. “And yes, I love him, sure. But not romantically, that’s not how things are. And, frankly, I don’t appreciate you-“

“Cap,” Rhodey holds up his hands in a placating gesture, “it’s okay. We understand. But times have changed, even the military has come to acknowledge that-“

“He’s not queer, geez, guys, what the hell?” Bucky wheezes, wiping at his eyes, and Tony finally unfreezes, bursting out into a fit of childishly delighted giggles.

“James,” Natasha begins, soft in a way she only ever is with Bucky and, on occasion, Clint, “there is no need to hide, not here, not anymore.”

“Yeah, I get that and I’m not,” Bucky says, suddenly serious again. “But that ain’t making Stevie here anything he’s not. He likes dames and me, well, not so much. And we might be from the forties but we ain’t slow, we caught up. We know being queer or-“ he pauses, seeking help from Tony who supplies ‘gay’ through his slowly subsiding chuckles, “gay, in my case, or whatever the hell you gonna call, it is fine now. Or, you know, mostly anyway.”

There should be crickets, Tony thinks, to provide adequate background noise for the silence that follows.

It’s Clint who eventually ventures, “What?”

Bucky rolls his eyes so hard Tony is almost convinced it has to hurt. “Steve and me ain’t dating or screwing or pining over each other. In fact, there’s a fella I’m spending time with, trying to see where things are going. We’re doing pretty good, I think. Not that it’s any of your business.”

Tony has to duck his head for a moment to hide what he suspects is a downright sappy smile attempting to take over his face. When he comes back up he has his smuggest grin firmly in place, letting his gaze wander over his teammates before he drawls, “This must be so awkward for you guys.”

They all sag in relief when the alarm to assemble starts blaring.

**Author's Note:**

> If there’s something that doesn’t make sense, don’t hesitate to tell me. I went to the theatre today because ‘The Rocky Horror’ show is in town and then we had drinks afterwards and things happened and now it’s after four in the morning and I’m drunk. Don’t let the mostly correct grammar fool you, I have a talent for typing smoothly and with few mistakes even if I’m pissed and what I’m writing is utter bullshit. 
> 
> Go check out my other [work](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Potrix/works) or come over to hang out on [tumblr](http://potrix-the-queerschlaeger.tumblr.com/).


End file.
